A Valentine’s Day Surprise That Revealed a Bitter Truth
Emily had prepared for the 14th of February with eager devotion. She’d bought a sweet little gift—a heart-shaped keyring—and resolved to surprise her boyfriend, James. In their two months together, she’d never visited his home. Something always got in the way: work, meetings, or it just “wasn’t the right time.” But today, she felt certain it would work out.
She knocked on his flat door. Footsteps rustled inside, yet no one answered. Frowning, she pulled out her mobile and dialled his number.
“Hello?” James’s voice was muffled.
“It’s me. Open the door—I’m right outside.”
“You’re here?! Why didn’t you warn me?” His tone was sharp with alarm.
“It just happened. Let me in, and I’ll explain.”
“I’m not home. I’m—I’m at work. The boss called me in. Sorry, gotta go—he’s coming.” The line went dead.
Emily stepped back, unconvinced. The neighbour she’d just passed swore she’d seen James enter the building moments ago. The light in his flat still burned, and there, on the windowsill, stood the Christmas poinsettia she’d given him.
Something wasn’t right.
She returned to her car but didn’t leave. A restless unease gnawed at her. Then it struck her—why not wait and see?
A small café stood nearby. She ordered tea and a scone, settling on a bench with a clear view of the door. As she nibbled, she watched the windows.
Then, a shift—the curtain in his flat twitched. Seconds later, James’s face appeared, scanning the car park as if searching for something. Emily held her breath. He was looking for her car.
So he had been home all along. Lying.
Minutes later, the door swung open. Emily tensed, ready to stand—then froze. James stepped out, but he wasn’t alone.
A baby drowsed in a sling across his chest. A boy of about eight led a toddler by the hand behind him. A woman in glasses followed, herding them along.
Emily didn’t utter a sound. She lifted her phone and snapped a few photos—not for revenge, but as proof, a full stop to their story.
She didn’t follow. Her heart ached for the children. They didn’t deserve a father who lied.
Later, at home, she blocked his number. Soon, messages came. Then calls. Silence was her reply. Undeterred, he turned up at her door.
She met him outside, shutting it firmly behind her.
“What’s wrong? Why are you acting like this?” he began.
“Are you sure you want the answer?”
“Of course! I don’t understand—”
“Take a look, then.” She showed him the photos.
James paled.
“Right… You saw.”
“And you still came here as if nothing happened? Thought you could talk your way out?”
“Emily, wait—it’s not what you think—”
“Ah, yes. That woman’s a stranger, and the kids escaped nursery? You told me you had a dog named Toby. Turns out Toby’s your son?”
“He is. And the other two—mine as well. The woman’s the nanny. My wife—ex-wife—left us, moved abroad.”
“Why didn’t you just say so? Why hide it?”
“We’d only just met. I didn’t know how you’d react. Didn’t want to scare you off—”
“When were you planning to tell me? At the wedding?”
“I never meant to deceive you—”
“You already did. Again and again. Hiding your children, your life. Feeding me lies—’just a dog,’ ‘free as a bird,’ ‘all alone.’ I won’t stay in something built on lies from the start.”
“So you’ll leave? Like everyone else?”
“I’m nineteen, James. I’m not afraid of children. But I am afraid of deceit. And I don’t forgive it.”
She clenched the heart-shaped keyring in her fist—ungiven, unwanted now. Then she walked away. Without a glance. Without regret.
She’d save it for someone honest from the very first. Someone worthy of love.